| Sailor here. Early yesterday morning, Mom and I climbed the stairs together. Mom had her hands full of bottles and cookies and towels. I looked askance at the towels, but the cookies beckoned to me and kept me climbing. I followed Mom, counting the steps and wondering if we were going to the second or third floor. �Eight�nine�ten�eleven.� Second floor it was. Mom cookied me into the room containing the large porcelain water bowl and the cool tile floor. Then she closed the door. �Uh-oh,� I thought. �What now?� Mom turned on a hose in the shower and fiddled with it for a few minutes. Then she told me to jump into the bathtub. Are you kidding? I don�t jump, especially into small enclosed areas. After several failed attempts and despite cookie encouragement, Mom finally sighed in defeat. �Sailor,� Mom said. �We are going to Ah-Erg you into the tub. Stand.� I stood. Mom Ah-Ergged. I collapsed in good collie fashion, having learned this ploy at the Do It Yourself DogWash. I found this very effective in foiling the bath routine, which, I had figured out, was the whole point of the climb. Mom was too strong for me, though. She lifted my chest and draped me over the side of the tub. Before I could collapse again and slide back onto my haunches in a heap, she lifted my rear end and I had no choice but to scramble into the tub. �Sailor, good boy,� Mom said, giving me a bit of freeze-dried liver. �Okay, not too bad,� I said to myself, munching, as I stood there and waited for more liver. Mom stretched the hose across the room to the tub. She pressed a button and water shot out. The water was wet. The water was warm. The water was�not too bad. Mom soaked me down, which took forever because of my double coat. She shampooed me in sections, carefully avoiding my face. I tried a half-hearted shake at one point, but Mom held my nose and laughed at me. �Hang on! You can shake later, boy,� she said. �We�re not finished here.� Then she carefully washed my face and rinsed it in the spray. I remembered to hold my breath. After the interminable body rinse, I got to shake and shake and shake. Zoe says that whole the point of a bath is to wash the walls and ceiling of the bathroom. She says that dogs with double coats (like us) are especially good at this and this is why Mom has us do this job and not, say, Josie the FatCat. Remembering my mission, I shook and shook and shook. I figured out that the wash removed the dead hair from my coat so I wouldn�t shake dog hair all over the bathroom. I looked around to make sure I had gotten the walls and ceiling acceptably wet. �Oops, missed a spot,� I said, shaking again to fill in the dry spot above the faucet. I also sprayed a bit of Mom in the bargain, but she didn�t seem to mind. She had changed her clothes and was wearing two pieces of elastic that she says were invented by folks living on an atoll in the mid-Pacific. She further explained that an atomic bomb was detonated on this island, which may give you an idea of what the locals may think about Mom�s attire. She admitted she looked better in it about 25 years ago but for dog washing, it was just fine. She still smelled like cookies, though, so I put a paw to my mouth and didn�t remark on her dog washing costume. After the wash, the towel rub, and the drip-trip downstairs, Mom led me by my ruff to the grooming table outside on the back porch and fired up the leaf blower. �Six horsepower!� she howled in delight right along with the blower as she blasted the water from my coat. Hair flew across the yard. �Did you know, Sailor, that most of our bird nests are made from my dog fur?� Mom yelled. �Pretty cool,� I yelled back, describing my new coat and feeling extremely virtuous about its sacrifice. Mom switched to the smaller dog dryer to finish drying me, and I lay down on my table and dozed until it was time to trim my toenails. We struggled with the toenail clippers for a while until Mom said my toes were acceptable. Then she cookied me and I jumped down, several pounds lighter and clad in my beautiful summer coat. �Are you ready for a new adventure?� she asked. �I think I�m ready for a nap,� I told her. Bathing can be very strenuous. �You can nap in the car,� she replied, which was just what I did. (to be continued) |
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| WIND CHIMES AND NEW FRIENDS |
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